Page 193 - nostromo-a-tale-of-the-seaboard

Barrios and his officers had done wonders with the recruits
in a short time. Those Indios, only caught the other day, had
gone swinging past in double quick time, like bersaglieri;
they looked well fed, too, and had whole uniforms. ‘Uni-
forms!’ he repeated with a half-smile of pity. A look of grim
retrospect stole over his piercing, steady eyes. It had been
otherwise in his time when men fought against tyranny, in
the forests of Brazil, or on the plains of Uruguay, starving
on half-raw beef without salt, half naked, with often only a
knife tied to a stick for a weapon. ‘And yet we used to pre-
vail against the oppressor,’ he concluded, proudly.
His animation fell; the slight gesture of his hand ex-
pressed discouragement; but he added that he had asked
one of the sergeants to show him the new rifle. There was
no such weapon in his fighting days; and if Barrios could
not—
‘Yes, yes,’ broke in Don Jose, almost trembling with ea-
gerness. ‘We are safe. The good Senor Viola is a man of
experience. Extremely deadly—is it not so? You have ac-
complished your mission admirably, my dear Martin.’
Decoud, lolling back moodily, contemplated old Viola.
‘Ah! Yes. A man of experience. But who are you for, really,
in your heart?’
Mrs. Gould leaned over to the children. Linda had
brought out a glass of water on a tray, with extreme care;
Giselle presented her with a bunch of flowers gathered hast-
ily.
‘For the people,’ declared old Viola, sternly.
‘We are all for the people—in the end.’

1 Nostromo: A Tale of the Seaboard